


For Roses

by patron_saint_of_suburbia



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Newsies (1992)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drugs, F/F, F/M, Family, Filming, Gangs, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Italian, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Musical References, Mystery, Near Death Experience, New York, Photography, School, Single Parents, Star Trek References, Student Activism, The X-Files References, This is a lot of Tags, X files - Freeform, afterschool special, and does everyone forget little refuge newsies Ten Pin, don't be surprised if this ends up a mess, drama teachers, i just thought up on the fly, i'm going to give louison some love, kill the competition, louison and ten pin, lyrics, movie references like you wouldn't believe, newspaper and telejournalism rivalry, sarah deserves more love, ten pin's so forgotten he doesn't even have an ao3 tag, the newsies and les amis don't immediately like each other, this is going to kill me, to the forgotten, what if, why is louison never in the modern aus?, you deserve more
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 07:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5240327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patron_saint_of_suburbia/pseuds/patron_saint_of_suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Newspaper Team and the School News Team are historic rivals. Will mysterious events force them to team together?<br/>*Cue X-Files theme*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Questionnaire's War Against Beloved Family Pets, A Murder Mystery

The Questionnaire's War Against Beloved Family Pets, A Murder Mystery

Anthony Higgins, Reporter

September 10, 2020

Filed under News

Skittles, beloved Bombay kitten of the Monahan household, tragically joined the list of domestic pets killed by the recently-dubbed “Questionnaire Killer”.  For the past few months, the Questionnaire Killer murdered thirteen pets, ranging from Beagles, to Huskies, from Birmans to Persians. Even guinea pigs can’t escape the killer’s wrath.  Each victim of this bloody killing spree received a question mark carved into the it’s stomach and a typed questionnaire. Released questions from the sheets vary from inquiries on how much the owner loved the pet to the pet’s favorite food. Police at this time have released no further information as to what the questionnaire could mean. The members of the community are only left to question the situation themselves.  Tatiana Monahan, daughter of Judge Martin “Move Along” Monahan, has spoken out publicly about distressing Skittles’ demise: “I just don’t get why such a [mean person] would do this to such an innocent kitten? Who does that? I hope the [mean person] [suffers]. I really miss Skittles and I wish he was still here.”

You can learn more about the on-going investigation here.

Tags: murder, pets, move-along, questionnaire,  mystery,  shock

 


	2. Until One Day

Attending a totally new high school his senior year wasn’t exactly a decision David Jacobs would have prefered. There were many thing we would have prefered (he made a list. It was stored in his sock drawer). David would have prefered summer to last longer, to have finally conquered his fear of heights by his junior year, to have a higher tolerance for horror movies so he wouldn’t be the one to squeal every time creepy CGI shit hit the fan.

What David prefered, as he soon realized, mattered little in the grand scheme of things.

His alarm clock blinked “4:47” in bright red, leaving spots in his vision. He sighed, his eyes burning in the early hours of the morning. He sat up and carefully shifted his weight to the foot of his bed in order to avoid waking up his younger brother, Les, who would, like David, be catching the same bus at 7:10 on route to Madeline High School. The late bell would ring at 7:40, signifying the start of school. Sure, his sister, Sarah, had attended the school a year prior,

- _And absolutely flourished_ , David inwardly grumbled-

but there was the impending prospect that he would be alone. Not that David had ever had a problem with making friends. He was actually pretty decent if he had to say so himself. It was just the fact that it was his _junior_ _year_. If the student body hadn’t already settled into hollywood-esque groups and cliques, he would be lucky. But David wasn’t lucky, never was as far as he was concerned. He worried. He wasn’t sure what the school would be like, how the teachers taught, what kind of food they prepared in the lunchrooms they would be herded into by the afternoon..

He wasn’t nervous or anything. It’s healthy to be a little worried about things.

The clock blinked “4:51” and, ignoring the burning of his eyes, David got to work.

His bookbag had been packed since the last week of August, a week wherein he had lounged around the cramped house clinging desperately to the vanishing grip of summer. He had tried contacting his friends from his old school (who had all promised to keep up with him but he knows how that story ends). His eating patterns became erratic, eating a bowl of cereal morning large enough to last him the day to ordering pizza and downing Monsters and still feeling hungry when he went to bed. He read tutorials on being the new kid at a school (a role he had never played) and near about harassed Sarah on any and all questions about MHS, all of which were brushed off with a laugh and a “You’ll be _fine_ , Davey!”.

Logically, even David knew he would be fine. The odds of something like a meteor crashing into the school burning him alive or anything catastrophic like that were astronomical. Nothing would happen.

He double checked his bookbag, promising himself that he would skim through the summer reading on the bus.

_Blink!_ “4:53”. _Blink!_ “4:54”

David left the room to brush his teeth. He entered the bathroom, walls painted a gaudy green teal. The bathroom color had been the decision of Sarah who argued that green was a creative color (and anything would be better than the loud mustard yellow that was in the bathroom courtesy of the previous owners). David never understood if teal held the same amount of creative prowess and, even so, the paint job was bad since the green teal was flaking off, revealing the original mustard yellow below. In some places, there was even a burnt orange color below the peeling yellow. Perhaps the bathroom was cursed to be forever painted awful colors.  

Les, like any other carefree sane person, was still snoring away.

David contemplated Les’ situation with minor jealousy. Middle school, even compared with high school, meant much less in the grand scheme of things. Hordes of kids would enter the school from Solomona Middle School and Hart Middle School but middle schoolers are always quick to branch out and meet new people in a brand new environment. Les had nothing to worry about.

David furiously rinsed his mouth with mouthwash.

Spitting into the sink in front of him, he sighed and stared at brown eyes reflecting back at him. Crazed brown eyes. Tired brown eyes. Burning brown eyes only staying open because of his nerves. Brown eyes that watched as sweat formed and traveled down his shirtless chest. Brown eyes that searched the water-stained ceiling in a quest to find God and ask him “What gives?” in response to the terrible heat wave that had swept the city last week and still didn’t seem eager to leave.

He grabbed a threadbare green hand towel off the towel rack in the dimly-lit green teal bathroom and ran it under the sink’s pouring water. After shooting white soap from it’s container, he scrubbed his face. Then his arms. Then his armpits. Then his chest. Then his back. It was still hot and the sweat would come back but it would have to do for now.

 

He exited the bathroom and peeked into he and Les’ shared room.

_Blink!_ “5:09” _Blink!_ “5:10”

David nodded to himself and entered the room again. He unfolded the clothes he had prepared the night before (a blue shirt with an Aquaman graphic on the front and blue jeans). He pulled the shirt over his head and traded his shorts for his jeans. Afterwards, he paced the small expanse of the room.

_First is Pre-Calc. Second is Environmental Science. Third is Concert Band. Fourth is Study Hall. Fifth is AP United States History. Sixth is AP English Literature. Seventh is German Language._

His stomach grumbled and his foot stubbed on a pen cap on the carpeted ground.

_First is Pre-Calc. Second is Environmental Science. Third is Concert Band. Fourth is Study Hall. Fifth is AP English Literature. No._ Darn!

David leaned against the wall as he felt his heart race and his breath quicken. He wasn’t freaking out. He wasn’t freaking out right now, he’s not freaking out _darn it!_

“Breakfast,” David whispered to himself as he began to calm down. He ran a hand through his curly brown hair. The clock blinked “5:27”. “Cereal. Cheerios.”

David steadied his hand on a nearby chair and stood up on wobbly legs. He took a last look at a still snoring Les and walked out of the room, bookbag swung across his back.

Down the hallway was Sarah’s room. Bright blue and yellow light shined out of it. David knocked on her door anyway, even if the door was already open.

Before David knocked on the door, Sarah had been typing on her laptop in earnest, glowing holograms radiating cool blue and vivid yellow hues across her soft face. She was dressed in a black and pink floral-print overall dress (David was half convinced it used to belong to their mother) and black converse to complete it. Her hair was done in a loose braid and, for the clock ticking a steady “5:28”, she seemed as awake and alert as any person could hope to be. Coffee not needed.

“Good morning, Davey!” Sarah smiled brightly and lowered the screen of her laptop and the holograms petered out. She flicked the switch on her bedside lamp, placed her laptop on her bed, and stood up taking two large strides to grab David in a crushing and warm hug. “How’d you sleep?”

“Uh,” David began, adjusting his bookbag after Sarah had let go of him. “Fine. I slept fine.”

Sarah gave him a “sure” look. “Because that’s why you’re up before six in the morning.” David was never up at six in the morning.

David flung out his arms in mild irritation. “You’re up, Sarah.”

_I mean, you don’t look_ exhausted _but that’s hardly the point._

Sarah gestured to her bookbag and laptop. “A friend’s driving me. Winnie Horn? Short, black hair, talks a lot? Well, she dyed her hair green over the summer, but she’s not that much different. You remember her?” David shook his head because, no, he didn’t remember a “Winnie Horn”. Sarah shrugged. “We’re both on the Yearbook staff so we decided to get a head start at school this morning. Setting things up and whatnot.”

David was dumbfounded. “It’s only September.”

Sarah gave him a look while packing away her laptop. “ _The Palette_ is an award winning yearbook. We win awards and recognition and things. There’s no such things as being too early” She swung her bookbag across her back. “Do you want to ride to MHS with us? I’m sure Winnie wouldn’t mind-”

“I’m fine!” David said sharply. He paused for a few seconds at his loud voice in the silent house. “I mean, I need the experience. I’m sure Winnie wouldn’t want me in the car with her everyday.”

_Especially since I don’t know who she is._

Sarah raised a single eyebrow before looking at her watch and running out her room. She turned and smiled brightly, waving at David. “Have fun at school. _Don’t_ let Les sleep in on the first day.”

David stayed standing in her room, listening as the front door opened and closed gently behind her. He sighed, turned off her bedside lamp, looked at her clock (“5:37”), and remembered that he was supposed to be getting some cereal. Cheerios.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

David was still stirring the soggy cereal elements in his bowl when Les walked into the kitchen, loudly slapping his large feet against the floor in the sort of glee only Les could exhume.

“David!” Les exclaimed. “Are you excited? Because I’m excited! I bet the teachers will be so cool! I’ll bet every teacher is better than Ms. Brown.

Les and David sighed at this. Any teacher would be better than Ms. Brown.

“And a study hall?” Les continued. “I’ve never _had_ a study hall! _Man,_ David! First day of school! First day of _high school!_ Can you believe it? Yeah, _you’ve_ already had a first day of high school, but this is my first one. Plus, this will be both of our first days at Madeline High School! _Together!_ Wait, did you make me cereal. I’m hungry, David. You’d let me starve?”

Les’ brown hair was sticking out in a way only sleep could provide. If their mother knew, she would have had a fit. His Minnesota Twins shirt was rumpled and his blue jeans were frayed at the ends. Unlike David, Les wasn’t too worried about making an impression.

 

“I take it you’re enjoying this,” David muttered. He had come to terms with going to a new school since school ended the previous year, but Les, unknowlingly or not, didn’t need to rub it in his face.

“What?” Les asked, before his attention shifted to the open box of Cheerios. “I _really_ hope you didn’t eat the last bits of _Cheerios._ They’re my favorite.”

According to the clock on the microwave, they had roughly an hour and twenty minutes before they needed to go out and wait for the bus at the dreaded bus stop.

 

Les waited no time at all to begin filling in that time duration with every single reason why high school was going to be amazing. He was going to join every club and every sport, despite how unlikely it was according to David. Les was planning on befriending every teacher and every janitor. He didn’t seem worried about anything.

 

“What are your classes?” David asked.

“Well,” Les began, mouthing around a mouth full of milk. “I have Biology first and PE second. Then, I have Newspaper third, some literature class fourth, a world geography class fifth, study hall sixth,” he paused here, doubly excited at the idea of a study hall, “and Algebra last.”

“You signed up for Newspaper?” David asked.

“Yeah,” Les answered.

“But you don’t even write,” continued David. “Or take pictures.”

“This just in!” Les gestured his hands at the sky, extending his arms as if showcasing a headline of some sort. “I can _learn!_ ”

“Hmm,” David mumbled. The clock said “7:03”. “We should start heading out.”

Les bobbed his head in agreement. Slurping the last of the milk from his bowl, he wiped off his milk mustache and took off towards the front door, bookbag in hand.

David steadied his breath and followed behind.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You sure this is the right place?”

Les and David had been standing for all of two minutes at the bus stop. David rolled his eyes to the sunrise, a soft smile on his face. “I’m positive this is the right place, Les.”

_I had it mapped out in everything._

As if to confirm his statement, a tall figure started walking in their direction from the left of them. Correction: walking was putting it lightly. This person was, for all the world to see, marching with heavy steps and struggling under the crushing weight of the world.

As the distance between the walking boy and the Jacobs brothers grew smaller, Les raised his hand and waved at him, smiling. Les had many types of smiles. David grew learning and studying the differing smiles. The slightest adjustment between a wide grin and a smile with lips raised slightly higher on the left as compared to the right could mean the difference between a Les about to tell a joke and a Les who sabotaged the bathroom or anything of value to David.

“Hi!” Les called out. The boy, dressed in a brown leather jacket and jeans that exposed pale knees behind them, looked up at the greeter. He brushed his greasy brown hair away from his light brown eyes. He offered Les a small smile and raised up his right hand, waving his fingers.

The boy continued his trek to the bus stop where he leaned against the stop sign. David was surprised to see that the boy was slightly taller than he thought he was from a distance. The boy smelled strongly of cigarette smoke.

“I’m Les!” said Les. David could only imagine that he was feeling on top of the world just from meeting some new guy. Gesturing to David, he said, “This is my brother David! He’s a junior. This is my first day of high school!”

The boy raised his eyebrows, no doubt amused. “I’m Michael. But anyone who matters calls me Skittery.”

“So,” David started, rocking on his heels. He decided he should work his socializing muscles. “You’re, uh, waiting for the bus, I take it?” David didn’t notice a bookbag of any kind.

The boy, Skittery, leveled him with a cold gaze. David’s nerves picked up again. “No,” Skittery started slowly. “I just happen to have an innate desire to walk to a goddamn bus stop in seven in the fucking morning. And a Thursday.” He rolled his eyes.

David smothered his reviving nerves and leveled Skittery with an equally cold gaze (or as equally cold as he could muster). Les chuckled nervously, sensing the tension in the air but still trying to ease the atmosphere.

“So, Skittery. What does that stand for anyway?”

“Maybe he really like comedy. Can’t you tell, Les?” David crossed his arms. “He thinks he’s an absolute riot.”

“The thing about nicknames, Les,” Skittery began, not taking David’s bait but not ending the stare-off, “is that you don’t really know why you get them. Or what they mean.”

“You look tired,” Les said. “Are you ready for school?”

“Jeez, kid.” He looked away from David and smiled at Les. “I’m a senior, Les. I get happier each day closer to the end.”

David glanced down at his watch, still somewhat irritated at Skittery. “7:08”. Two more minutes.

“ _FUCK!_ ”

The three boys looked up instantly and looked in different directions for where the voice came from. Quick footsteps followed and the sound of labored panting intensified.

David saw a short Asian boy with scruffy black hair run towards the bus stop in the opposite direction Skittery had come from. He skipped to a stop in front of the boys and pulled an empty bookbag from his back and roughly threw it at Skittery. The grey backpack fell to Skittery’s feet after hitting his chest.

The boy squatted on the concreted and coughed harshly. He looked up at them, his face red from the run and the labored coughing. “I haven’t exercised since PE last year.” His voiced sounded much deeper than David would have expected from his small frame. He coughed and laughed hysterically. “I’m gonna die. My heart’s beating too fast.”

Skittery rolled his eyes and picked up the grey backpack. “You’re not going to die, Snipe.”

“Fuck off, man,” Snipe retorted. “I wouldn’t be here _dying_ if you had gotten a bookbag over the fucking summer like everyone fucking told you to. I looked all over the house for that thing and this is the thanks I get?” He paused, waiting for Skittery's thanks.

 

"Thank you, Snipe, for the bag."

 

"You're fucking welcome."

David felt the strongest impulse to cover his brother’s ears.

“Hello, tall dude,” Snipe nodded at David. “Hello, small dude.” He nodded at Les. “I’m Snipe.”

David and Les told him “Hi” as well. Les introduced both he and David.

“You like baseball, Les dude?” Snipe stood up and pointed at Les’ Twins shirt. At Les’ excited nod, Snipe continued. “I fucking _love_ baseball. I play shortstop. I’m the literal best there ever _was_.”

“You’re awful of baseball, Snipe,” Skittery said matter-of-factly.

“You _wish_ you had my skill, dude,” Snipe quipped. He and Les immediately became engaged in an intense baseball discussion.

The yellow school bus rolled into the corner. David felt his nerves pick up again. When the bus stopped a yard in front of them and the four boys started walking towards it, Skittery called out to David.

“Best of luck, David. Junior year is hell.”

_Darn you, Skittery._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Newsies chapter up and at ya!!!
> 
> My headcannon is that Snipe has the mouth of a sailor. Skittery just wants to sleep. Les is an actual puppy. Sarah is the older sister we all need but never deserve.
> 
> David needs a hug.
> 
> If you have any characterization suggestions (or any suggestions at all), leave them in the comments.
> 
> I hoped you liked this!!!
> 
> Les Mis next chapter!!


	3. Murder in the Park (feat. Azelma, Jehan, and Marius)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've never written a screenplay before. All mistakes are mine. Granted, I think I've learned a lot about making movie scripts, so that's cool.

FADE IN:

EXT. PARK - NIGHT

In the dark of the night, with only the full moon as a light source, three teenagers are walking around the park. The park is quiet and a DOG HOWLS in the distance.

MARIUS PONTMERCY, an obviously rich boy, walks near the back, the moon’s glow giving his red hair a subtle shine. He is a junior in high school and he seems to be more nervous than the two other teenagers he’s walking with. He pulls his jacket against a chilling breeze before speaking.

**MARIUS PONTMERCY**

Are you sure that this is the last place you saw him, Zel? It’s getting pretty dark. Don’t you want to continue this tomorrow?

AZELMA THENARDIER, a junior in high school, is wearing thin clothes against the implied winter chill. She walks in front of the other two teenagers, her long and curly black hair bouncing as she jumps at Marius’ comment.

**AZELMA THENARDIER**

Sssh! Of course I’m sure. This is the last place I saw Bennu. And, no, we’re not going to continue this tomorrow because who knows what might’ve happened to him by then?

JEAN “JEHAN” PROUVAIRE walks in between the two. They are short and have long and tightly curly red hair that is loosely plaited. They have tan skin and freckles and they look concerned. They place their hand on Azelma’ shoulder.

**JEAN “JEHAN” PROUVAIRE**

Maybe Marius is right. It’s getting pretty late and we never know who may be…

We close in on Jehan until their face fills the screen. They looks at the camera.

**JEAN “JEHAN” PROUVAIRE**

...watching us.

Cue scary music theme.

BEHIND THE TREE, something SHRIEKS

The three teenagers jump and Azelma goes to investigate.

**MARIUS PONTMERCY**

(begging)

No, Azelma! Don’t go!

**AZELMA THENARDIER**

(laughing)

I’ll be fine, guys! Just watch.

(toward tree)

Hey, little guy! Are you lost?

Jehan and Marius watch as Azelma walks closer to the tree. Suddenly, a HAND GRABS Azelma’s foot and she is dragged behind the tree.

CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON BOYS’ EYES as they go wide in shock at what they see.

**AZELMA THENARDIER (O.S.)**

(screaming)

HELP! HELP ME!!

Jehan makes a move to go to the tree but Marius pulls them back.

**MARIUS PONTMERCY**

(whispering)

What if something happens to you?

**JEAN “JEHAN” PROUVAIRE**

(shocked)

Azelma is our friend, Marius. We have to save her!

CAMERA FOLLOWS Jehan as they run towards tree. Jehan yells at what they see on the ground. CAMERA CLOSES IN on Azelma’s dead face. It is contorted in an expression of fear. Pale and splattered with blood.

**JEAN “JEHAN” PROUVAIRE**

(shouting)

MARIUS! I need your help!

Marius looks fearful and confused as CAMERA PANS TOWARD HIM.

**JEAN “JEHAN” PROUVAIRE (CONT’D)**

(crying)

Azelma is dead!

Marius makes a move toward the tree just as Jehan is pulled behind the tree. Marius runs toward the tree and walks behind it. CAMERA FOCUSES on Azelma and Jehan’s dead bodies.

**MARIUS PONTMERCY**

(whispering)

Who could have done this?

Suddenly, Marius looks at the trunk of the tree. THUNDER BOOMS and LIGHTNING FLASHES in the sky, illuminating the Question Mark carved into the tree.

**MARIUS PONTMERCY**

But it can’t be!

CAMERA ZOOMS into the carving as Marius screams (O.S.). THUNDER BOOMS again.

FADE OUT.

**THE END.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a side note, I REALLY want to give Azelma, Louison, and the Patron-Minette some love since I rarely see them. So, expect a lot of that later on in this story.


	4. Your Time Is Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the chapter where I introduce a few members of the Les Amis!!

Summer was over.

Cosette hadn’t slept the whole night. Granted, she took an extremely long nap the day before and couldn’t sleep later on. She had been lying on her untidy mattress, covers kicked to the foot of the bed since sometime around 1 in the AM.

She sat up on her messy bed, knees brought up to her chin and tan arms wrapped around them. She clutched Beary the Bear, her oversized stuffed panda, closer to her chest, burying her face into it’s synthetic fur, purple fibers tickling her cheeks and nose.

Summer was over and she was both extremely excited and _not ready at all._

She hadn’t finished anything. Her room was still in a just-moved haze, maps and NatGeos scattered all over the off-yellow carpeted floor, flowery hats and tie-dyed tanks scattered all over her polka-dotted bed. She hadn’t even painted her room yet (she planned for it to have some kind of rainbow theme). And school was in the next _few hours._

She supposed that she should be used to moving and unpacking and meeting new people and moving and unpacking and meeting new people.

_Rinse. Repeat._

But being used to something never equated to her liking it. She enjoyed the aspect of redefining herself at each school, but once she had finally gotten her footing, they were uprooted. So, here she was. Three in the AM on the Thursday morning. The Thursday they would begin school. Who in their right mind would start school on a Thursday anyway? She should file a strongly-worded complaint.

Cosette sat at the edge of her bed and looked into the mirror of her dresser, her face bathed in a white light that shone from her computer screen.

Her skin, normally a tawny brown, had darkened considerably over the summer thanks to all the days she had spent outside filming. Her green-hazel eyes focused on her dyed dark purple curly hair that she had colored over the summer.

_Oh, God, what the dye was a mistake?_

__

_Oh, God, what if it looked stupid?_

Cosette bit her lip. She got off her bed and paced her new room. Her red-walled room. How excessive were the previous owners..

While pacing, she furiously wiped away tears of frustration and anger and sadness and any other feeling she wasn’t able to describe in the only language she knew. She had made a name for herself at Montfermeil High School where she had spent half of her freshman year and all of her sophomore year. Home of the Larks. It housed an extensive award-winning theatre program in which Cosette auditioned for and received the lead role of Elphaba in Wicked. She had managed to make so many friends and join so many clubs and create and atmosphere for herself. But one day, her Papa got nervous. Then they moved and unpacked and prepared to meet new people.

_Rinse. Repeat._

She tugged at her tightly-curled purple hair. What if she wasn’t nearly as lucky this time around?

She stopped pacing.

“I can’t do this to myself,” she spoke quietly to herself. “I can’t dwell on “what-ifs”. “What-ifs don’t do anything.”

She decided that there was only one thing she could do.

She took a cold shower. Cosette read somewhere, years ago, that cold showers made you more awake. She could do this. And she would put her best foot forward. That’s all you could do in these scenarios.

Cosette vaguely wondered if her Papa was wondering what she was doing taking a shower so early in the AM. Then again, she never inquired as to why she would sometimes go to bed with him hunched over piles of paper and would wake up seeing him over the same amount of paper, no visible change (besides red eyes) that indicated movement.

After finger-combing moisturizing cream and oil through her hair, she shook her head for all it was worth, separating the curls. Her purple was dark and fell in wet wavy ringlets around her hair, but she knew that it would take only and hour or so for it to curl and rise like a cloud around her face.

She found a Ms. Marvel T-Shirt under the Mountainous T-Shirt Range on her bed. She put it on and quickly found matching red shorts and socks to boot.

Cosette didn’t know much about Madeline High School. She did her research and learned basic superficial facts about the school. She figured, however, that Madeline High School was much different than Washington’s Montfermeil High School. She knew that West Coast to East Coast travel guaranteed a culture shock or twenty for her. Were New Yorkers weird? Would they think she was weird? Did they wear different styles of clothes in New York? Did everyone have a super strong accent?

She was thrilled about the policy that MHS had about being able to create your own club. With that, she could finally get her Swing Dancing Club off the ground.

She stretched and yawned, rubbing away any lurking sleep from her eyes. Eggs and pancakes for breakfast were long overdue.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cosette, engulfed in whatever zone she entered when she cooked, didn’t notice her Papa sitting at the table in the kitchen. She flipped her pancakes (chocolate chip) and walked to the fridge pulling out orange juice. She poured a glass of the drink and, seeing her Papa, she grinned and said, “Good morning, Papa!”

“Good morning, Cosette,” her Papa smiled, tired grey eyes twinkling. His wispy greying-brown hair curled at odd angles, a sign that Cosette understood to mean that there was, yet again, another sleepless night. “Did you sleep well?”

Cosette made a waving gesture with her free hand and made an “Ehh” sound. “I’m just, you know, getting ready for the first day of school. Remember Rebecca?” Rebecca Watson was one of her best friends who Cosette left behind at Montfermeil High.

“I do remember Rebecca,” her Papa collected, chuckling as if remembering the many things she and Cosette did together (including, but not limited to, accidentally swapping the sugar for salt in their cookies in a typical _Little Women_ fashion, getting lost at the Seattle Pride Parade, and forgetting that they signed up for community service at a daycare and had to improvise skits and games before they returned to Cosette’s place with more glitter and tape than skin. “What is Becca up to now?”

Last Cosette heard, she was at a theatre camp they had always imagined going to together. She shrugged, turning off the fire and transferring the pancakes to two plates, one for her and one for her Papa. “I don’t know. But she said that the best breakfast is a good breakfast. I’m just, I don’t know. I want to be prepared, be settled. I’m going to be the new kid and I don’t need my stomach growling in my first class.” She shuddered. “Too much attention.”

Her Papa smiled weakly. Gently, he asked her, “What is your first class?”

“Uh.” Cosette sipped some of her orange juice. “I think it’s Pre-Calc. But, I also signed up for video production and, according to the school’s website, they meet in the morning every day. So, I don’t know how that works.”

“Well, pumpkin,” her Papa began, cutting his chocolate chip pancakes in neat little squares with his fork and knife. “Do you like filming more than math?”

“Of course I do.”

“And the website says to meet with video in the morning.”

“Yes.”

“Then, you should go to the video class. The school can hardly fault you for misunderstanding the schedule. Cosette,” he continued, his hand covering his mouth. “Did you add nutmeg to these.”

“I did,” Cosette replied, smiling around her mouthful of pancakes sweet enough to desserts.

“You should keep doing that. These pancakes are absolutely brilliant.”

“I learned from the best.” As far as Cosette was concerned, her Papa had never burned a single pancake for a breakfast meal.

So they ate, downing eggs and laughing around cooling chocolate chip pancakes. Glasses of orange juice were cleared and refilled. The time ticked and tocked by, school was only an hour away, but Cosette was feeling perfectly content sitting with her Papa.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cosette waited outside for the bus. She prayed for wind to give her respite from the grueling heat. None came.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, impatient. She wouldn’t be able to take waiting much longer. She hated waiting, that feeling of painful anticipation. If she was going to be the new girl, she needed to get it over with _right about now._

“Are you new?” A soft feminine voice came from behind her. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

Startled, Cosette turned around. She found herself face to face with a tall and awfully skinny girl. Her coppery-brown skin was covered in a startlingly large amount of darker freckles across her face. Her black dreads were twisted and arranged intricately into a bun on the top of her head. Her thin blue and yellow striped shirt looked faded and worn and her white All Stars seemed ready to fall off her feet.

“Sorry,” the girl continued, recognizing how her presence must have startled Cosette. “Should’ve tapped you on the shoulder first or something. So, uh,” she gestured at Cosette. “Did you just move. I would’ve noticed if someone in the neighborhood had hair as cool as yours.”

Cosette’s eyes widened and she felt heat rise in her face. Hoping that her blush wasn’t visible, she asked, “Yeah, I just moved. I did registration with the school, like, a few weeks ago. What’s your name?”

“Jasmine “Faber””. Jasmine emphasized “Faber” with making quotes with her fingers. She rolled her eyes. “It’s “Faber” until, like, I’m 18. Then, I don’t, I don’t really know. You can call me “Feuilly”.”

Cosette wondered about the animosity toward “Faber” but decided it was a conversation for another day if it was ever brought up again. “I’m Cosette.” Cosette held out her hand and Feuilly shook it with her larger and sweatier grip. “I’m kind of nervous about school, but-”

“Oh, don’t be,” Feuilly said, with a waving motion of her hand. “There’s absolutely nothing to worry about as far as Madeline’s concerned. If you have a notebook, I can tell give you notes about all the teachers there. So you know who to and who to not piss off.”

Cosette, eyes brightening, nodded and crouched on the sidewalk and went through her bag. While looking for a pencil, Feuilly spoke up again.

 

“Where are you from anyway?”

“Seattle.” Cosette held out a pencil and notebook. “I mean, I’ve lived all over, but we just came from Seattle.” Feuilly took the pencil and notebook and Cosette looked at her watch. “Shouldn’t the bus be here right now?”

“Maybe,” Feuilly said, scribbling notes down. “I’m not going on the bus. I’m waiting for my ride.”

“Your ride?”

“Yeah. I’m going to school with my friends. They’re driving me.” She cocked her head to the side considering something. “Unless you’re dying to go on the bus, I don’t think they’ll mind if you come with us.” Feuilly finished her notes for Cosette and handed it back down to her.

“Really?” Cosette brightened at the idea. She put the notebook and pencil back in her bag and stood up. It wasn’t like she was yearning to go on a bus (they weren’t the greatest no matter what city she was living in), but she kind of expected it. A car ride to school with a new friend didn’t seem to be that terrible of an idea. “That’d be awesome.”

“You’re really that happy to not be driving on the cheese?” Feuilly seemed amused. “Can’t blame you.”

A loud car horn got the girls’ attention. They turned and saw a beaten-up looking mustard yellow. Something in the back of Cosette’s mind said, “Volkswagen”. She figured it came from a memory of her New Jersey friend from elementary school, Donna, who was obsessed with cars.

The car pulled up in front of them. The window on the it’s right side rolled down and Cosette and Feuilly were greeted with a “Get in loser!”

Feuilly made her way to the back and opened the door. The smell of hot leather and Cheetos greeted her and she waved her hand in front of her face in an attempt to disperse the smell. “Do you mind if I bring a friend.”

“Sure,” a different voice said. It was deeper than the first one but Cosette couldn’t tell who it was coming from. “ _Su amigo es mi amigo._ ”

Cosette interpreted that as her cue to go, so she walked behind Feuilly and entered the odd smelling old yellow car. The leather was hot and candy wrappers covered the seats and floor, multiple CD cases piled into the pockets of the seats in front of them.

“Hey!” The same person said, holding out her hand for Cosette to shake. Cosette shook it and smiled. “My name’s Rabi. You can call me Bahorel.”

“I’m Cosette,” Cosette offered.

Bahorel was wearing a thick floral scarf and matching pink jacket, seemingly unaware or uncaring of the heat wave that was sweeping the city. Her tan face was mostly covered with her wild and thick curly black hair. She smiled with thick pink lips and clicked her tongue. “I hope you like Madeline High more than I do, new girl.”

Bahorel pointed to the two other occupants of the car. “That’s Ms. “I’m-On-Probation-So-No-More-Car” Eponine Thenardier. That’s scary sexy Montparnasse.”

The sunglasses-wearing driver, Montparnasse, nodded, smirking slightly. “Approved.”

“ _So?_ ” Eponine, seated in the front, turned to face Bahorel, Feuilly, and Cosette in the back. “At least I _had_ a car, Rabi.” Ignoring Bahorel’s laugh, Eponine focused on Cosette, large dark eyes looking her up and down. Cosette felt like she was being searched for something although she had no idea what for.

“Colette, right?” Eponine asked, dark eyebrows lowering.

“Cosette,” Cosette corrected. She opened her mouth, about to offer her birth name if anyone would prefer that, but closed it again. She wasn’t too fond of “Euphrasie” herself.

“Cosette.” Eponine said. She had short black hair. It was asymmetrical (the right side of her head was shaved while the left side was loosely curled fading into blue near its tips). She wore a black and white striped shirt that exposed one pale shoulder. She seemed to laugh with her eyes although her mouth gave no indication, large eyes that reminded Cosette of her onyx stone only with dark circles of exhaustion below them. Her pink tongue licked her bottom lip before she went on. “What brings you to the Empire State?”

Cosette was prepared for this. She jumped a little as the car made a sharp turn to the left. “My dad’s job. He works as a freelance photographer. So, he travels a lot. Before here, I lived in Seattle. Before Seattle, I lived in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Before then, it was Lafayette, Louisiana. It kind of goes on.”

“That’s cool. I wish I could travel,” Bahorel said, opening a bag of Barbeque Lays. She ate a few and passed the bag to Feuilly. Feuilly took some and passed the bag to Cosette. Cosette wasn’t terribly partial to Barbeque-flavored things but she felt like eating from this bag of chips was significant in some way. Eating from this bag of chips meant “We are friends”. Eating some of these badly-flavored chips, Cosette reasoned, meant that there was some friendly understanding between the two of them.

Cosette took some chips.

While Cosette was munching on the chips, Montparnasse spoke up. “You ever been to New Orleans?” The dark haired driver pronounced New Orleans like “N’awlins”.

“Oh, yeah,” Cosette said. “Plenty of times. We’ve been to Mardis Gras. It’s crazy.”

Montparnasse hmmed in response. “It’s home.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The mustard Volkswagen parked near the courtyard of the school. Montparnasse seemed to be driving at the speed of light, complaining occasionally about the “mechanics” of this disco-era car and that driving it was “below me” and “I’m only doing this because I enjoy your company, girls”. When the car stopped, Cosette, Feuilly, and Eponine jumped forward, crashing into whatever was before them.

Bahorel’s deafening laugh came from the backseat as she held her seatbelts. “Safety first, kids!” she said.

Cosette looked out of the window at the school’s courtyard. Kids were piling into the courtyard by the dozens. The courtyard, an expanse of space surrounded by the school’s buildings, was covered with spraypainted dick drawings. Some students, skateboarding despite the signs that said “No Skateboarding” laughed as they circled around the largest one in the middle. Eponine, having already exited the car, sighed. The other three girls quickly followed and Montparnasse saluted them with a heavily tattooed hand and drove off.

“What the _fuck?_ ” Eponine said.

“It’s fucking hilarious.” Bahorel was barely containing her laughter as she made her way to the courtyard. "Best First Day of School Prank, hands down."

 

"It's not even a prank. It's vandalism." Eponine argued.

Eponine and Bahorel discussed who might have done the deed (“It was totally R”. “R slept over at my place. It wasn’t him.” “What about that Blink kid?” “Maybe, but odds are Mush would’ve told him "no". “Dudynsky and and Davidowitz?” “Debatable. Most likely.”) and Feuilly and Cosette followed closely behind, trying to avoid kids who were posing with and taking photos of the spraypainted genitalia.

“In living technicolor,” Feuilly mused, stepping over a drawing. “If there weren’t cameras in this courtyard, this might have been an actually really cool prank. But now, whoever did it is probably going to get suspended.” She turned to Cosette, who looking around and taking everything in. “What’s your homeroom?”

“Uh,” Cosette though about her homeroom. “It’s a Mr. Mabeuf.”

“I have him. I’ll show you where his class is. What about your first class?”

“It’s Audio and Video Production and Design. With a Mr. Lamarque. But, on the school’s website, it says that students in that class go to that class before school every day.”

“Before school every other day. We have school news on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. It’s called _The Roar._ ” Feuilly’s face looked disgusted. “I think they came up with that name in, like, the 90s and never let it go.”

“What about, well,” Cosette took a deep breath. “What about everyone else in your homeroom?”

“I mean, you’re homeroom remains pretty concrete after your sophomore year.” Feuilly pointed to a door and they entered it, greeting with the blissful feeling of air conditioning. “So, unless people moved over the summer without letting me know, there’s me, Bahorel, Kayla, Marius, Louisa, Jeremy, Whitney, Devante, Blink, Mush, Lulu, the Magic kid, the Klepto, and, well, you. I’m missing some people.” Feuilly put a hand to her head. “It’s been a long summer. The hallway to your right.”

They made a right and Feuilly said that it was room 733. She opened the door and entered, Cosette following closely behind.

This was day number one at Madeline High School. She could do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some very vague interaction between the Les Amis and the Newsies was there. 
> 
> And, for the Back to School prank, my cousin's school has that. Seniors are the only ones who are supposed to do it but that doesn't stop the underclassmen from pitching in.
> 
> Newsies next chapter!


	5. What's With The Junk? Ask Dutchy!

What’s With The Junk? Ask Dutchy!

Eva Dudynsky, Columnist/Reporter

September 10, 2020

Filed under News, Humor

**hugo wood** @b1ggerthanUrs  
@evadutch It’s my first day at #MHS and I think I’ve been traumatized? All around me in the courtyard are pictures of wieners? How do I get past this?  
Sent at **7:21**

Nice to hear from you, Mr. Unfortunate Name!

Nothing like this ever happened in the old country. While I do agree that the courtyard was absolutely glowing with masculinity this humid Thursday morning, FEAR NOT! The janitors are already at work hosing down those leaky hoses. I believe the rest of your day will be fairly uneventful as compared to that surprising sausage fest. Let the monotonous class periods take care of that love-stick trauma. Don’t let the womb brooms get you down. Happy Freshman year, Hugo Wood!!

Always Happy to Help!

"Dutchy" Dudynsky

 

Tags: senior, prank, first-day, humor,  freshmen, 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based off the senior prank at my school. It was so bad and the courtyard smelled of a carwash all day.


	6. Kill the Competiton

David was stuck in the hallway.

The hallway was crowded.

Crowded hallways made David uncomfortable.

There were always so many people. People who wanted to stop and say “Hi” to every friend that they hadn’t seen all summer. And, okay, David could understand that. He could understand that people were excited. But, there were also the study halls. There was lunch. There were afterschool clubs. Say “Hi” to your long-lost friends then, not now. But, for the love of all things holy, not when he’s trying to get to class on his first day of school.

Les had already run off. The bus had parked and the the bus driver (Mr. Wiesel) told all of the “ungrateful brats” in his bus “to get the heck out”. David desperately wanted to argue with him on the ethics of being a responsible bus driver, but Les had tagged along with Snipe (apparently short for “Snipeshooter”) and they ran down to the courtyard leaving David in the dust and vulnerable to the onslaught of student pandemonium.

As for Skittery, David couldn’t care less where he ended up.

He turned from the 600 hall, praying silently that the 700 hall was next to it. Kids were pushing against each other and the chaos of the first day of school was overwhelming. Posters hung from the walls greeting the freshmen and wishing the “Best of Luck” to the seniors in all it’s spraypainted and bedazzled glory.

David, deciding he might as well ask for directions, singled out a skinny and lanky boy chewing on a pen and wearing a brown cowboy hat of all things. At his old school, they weren’t allowed to wear hats. Yet, for some reason, David still felt those same rules applied at this school but the cowboy kid probably didn’t care.

“Um, hi?” David walked up to him and waved at him, phrasing his greeting like a question. The boy frowned around his pen but David continued. “Do you know where the 700 hall is?”

The cowboy kid raised his eyebrows and took his pen out of his mouth, shoving it in his back pocket. His hazel eyes staring at David seemed to be equal parts concerned and amused. “You new?”

“Um, yeah,” David answered, hating how he couldn’t sound any more confident. “This is my first day. Here. At this school.” He felt heat rise in his cheeks. Clearing his throat, he muttered a “Yeah”.

“It’s everyone else’s first day,” the cowboy kid laughed. It didn’t bother David so much since it seemed like the kid was laughing more at the situation than at him. “Yeah, I’ll show you.”

As they walked down the hallway, David frantically dodging students and the cowboy kid seemingly walking through them, David needed to ask him a question.

 

“I’m David Jacobs.” Oh God, what was he doing. “What’s your name?” He’s sounding like Les. _What was he doing?_

That got a smile out of the teen. “Eager, ain’t you?”, he remarked in his thick New York accent. He thought for a little bit, stopped for a second to shout “Hi” to a group of girls running down the upcoming stairs. The girls beamed and greeted him back. “I mean, I go by “Jack” here, I guess. You got newspaper?”

“No,” David said slightly unsure of what he meant. As they ran up the stairs (Jack went two at a time), David decided against mentioning his brother was in the class. Cowboy Jack would find out eventually.

“You should change your schedule. You’d do good.” Jack gave him a large grin.

David was confused. Correction: confused didn’t cover it. “What do you do? Just scout out people to join your cause? How do you know if I’d do well at newspaper?” David stumbled after missing a step and Jack gripped his arm, yanking it and pulling him up. David muttered a thanks.

“The way you just corrected the way I spoke. I’ve learned that good speakers read a lot. If you read a lot, that means that youse a good writer. I’ve noticed that through experience.” He leaned against the wall, his lips spreading into a smirk. “That and I’ve gotta feeling, Davey-boy.”

At the proposed nickname, David’s face seemed to sour and his mouth formed a thin grimace. “Not a good name, huh?” Jack asked. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll find a good one for you. I always do” He slapped him on the back.

David felt the wind get knocked out of him from that slap. Clearing his throat, he asked Jack, “So, is the room…?”

“Hold on, Davey-Man! There’s a fight! C’mon!” Jack seemed to say this all in one breath. He grabbed David’s shirt collar and pulled alongside him as they ran down the hallway to where a tight circle of onlooking students were starting to form. A chant of “FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!” grew louder.

David was totally out of his depth right now.

I mean, who gets into a fight on the first day of school?

_I really don’t like this place._

__

Jack was tall enough to view the fight from the outskirts of the circle but he still pushed forward in order to get right in front. David, still being gripped by Jack, found himself standing in the inner part of the circle and his first thought was an apology to the janitors who would eventually have to clean up the blood. On the first day of school.

_Dare I say it, I_ hate _this school._

In the middle of the circle were two boys. They looked very similar but David guessed that they weren’t twins. One looked younger and wore a red shirt while the taller one wore a poor attempt of a mustache and a grey shirt. They wore black leather jackets and their hair was greasy from lack of washing, akin to Skittery’s own. From the looks of it, it seemed like they intended on playing a 50’s Greaser but didn’t put much effort into their appearance.

 

The other two people didn’t seem to be related at all. The youngest, by his appearance, had long black hair and sandy brown skin. He was furiously wiping his nose that was absolutely _gushing_ blood out at a rate David didn’t think was healthy. Was _certain_ wasn’t healthy. The boy, pushing himself off the ground he had been shoved onto, looked like he didn’t care that the blood was dripping onto the floor and staining his yellow Beach Boys shirt. His cheek ballooned out and he spit out a glob of bloody saliva onto the leather jackets of one of the wannabe greasers.

****

“Aw, _fuck_ it, Ten Piece. Now ya _really_ pissed them off.” If David thought that Jack’s New York accent was thick, that was because he hadn’t heard this kid speak. He looked about as tall as the kid who’s nose was bleeding, but he seemed to emulate the same kind of experienced confidence Jack had. His thick black hair was slicked back and his arms were crossed and he looked, for all the world, the least worried about what was going on. As if he decided that a school fight was something he saw on the regular and he prefered the front-row seats. His dirty black Vans lightly tapped the blood on the ground and he laughed out loud. “Now who’s going to clean up all this?”

****

“Your face is!” the leather jacket guy with the mustache said in an especially deep voice, shaking his fist like an old man who wanted the rotten kids off his lawn.

****

“Yeah,” the other leather jacket boy agreed. “Yeah! And your mama’s face!” The surrounding crowd cheered and cries of “FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!” increased in volume. Hearing this, he turned around and waved and bowed to the crowd.

****

David was stuck in the front thank to Cowboy Jack and there was no way he was going to be able to get out of this circle. He turned around, standing on the tips of his toes, and swore he saw a few people taking bets.

****

_What the heck kind of school is this?_

****

He turned to Jack, expecting him to be cheering like the rest of the crowd, especially if he had pulled him to the front like he did. Instead, to his surprise, he saw a stoney face. Jack stared unblinking towards the middle. if anything, he seemed annoyed at the cheers the crowd of bloodthirsty students were giving them. As if knowing David was looking at him, he turned slightly and said, “Delancey Brothers.”

****

And that might have meant something to David if he knew anything more about this school.

****

“Ah, come on guys. There’s no need for that!” The boy with the slicked back hair had his hand around the shoulders of Ten Piece. His nose bleeding was stopping up. “That wasn’t even impressive verbose. Why’re ya insulting the poor guy’s mama? That’s called cowardice, Oscar. Ya bein’ too mild. I need somethin’ stronger.” A sizable amount of the crowd started booing and the boy rolled his eyes. He spotted Jack in the crowd. “I tell ya, Jack. No one appreciates the power of thought-out insults these days.”

****

David noticed the pull of his shirt leave and the sound of hands clapping at the same time. He turned to see Jack clapping like he was at a concert, his mouth stretched into an obviously fake grin. “That was brilliant, Oscar, Morris. Absolutely brilliant!” He faced Ten Piece who was rubbing his nose. “Now how the hell did you get into something like this?” The implied _“On the first day of school”_ was left unspoken.

****

While Jack was speaking, if anything, the surrounding crowd grew tighter and drew closer. The cheers grew softer as the students tried to listen to what Jack had to say.

****

David was dumbfounded. _Who the heck was this guy?_

 

“So this was what happened,” Race started, as Ten Piece gave no indication that he was going to speak. He was just standing, holding his nose, a short and compacted ball of fury. “Ten Piece here was runnin’ to class and he ran into our pal Oscar here. Oscar here says, “You wanna get punched in the fuckin’ face?” and Ten Piece says, “You couldn’t hit the water if you fell out of a fuckin’ boat.”— I thought that was pretty impressive myself—  and then big bro Morris saved his damsel kid brother— stand down, Oscar. I’m sayin’ it like it is. Kid’s bleedin’ on his shirt. There’s cameras. We’re all going to detention probably. Give yourself a break for now— and then Morris punched him in the face. It all went down pretty fast! You got here real quick.” Race patted Ten Piece’s back which Ten Piece quickly shrugged off. “I came here for moral support.”

“That’s good, Racetrack. Real good.” Jack shifted his attention to the Delancey brothers. “I’ll say, boys. This has _gotta_ be a new low for you guys. I mean, I can understand fighting on the second day, but give us time to get our syllabi first. You’re making things go way too fast” While he was talking, he walked closer to Morris Delancey, his voice getting colder. Although Morris Delancey was a good few inches taller than Jack, Jack still seemed to be looking down at him. “‘Cause if I see you throw another punch at Ten Piece again, you’re gonna have to go through me.”

“Big talk from a little man,” was Morris’ only reply.

Jack opened his mouth to retort before he was interrupted from a voice outside the circle.

“As much as I don’t want to agree with him,” a loud and clear voice rang from outside the circle, “I must. You say it’s too soon for fights, but I’d counter and say it’s too soon for threats.”

The crowd, which had quieted when Jack had their attention, grew softer still. David was still confused,

— _Isn’t that the theme of the day_ —

but when he looked at the teenagers in the middle, Ten Piece looked largely unimpressed, Race looked vaguely annoyed, and Jack looked, for the most part, furious.

“I don’t know, Enjolras. _That_ sounds like a threat.” Jack crossed his arms and stared down the speaking boy. “And who the _hell_ are you to defend them?”

David saw him. The crowd had parted like Moses’ legendary Red Sea. The golden-haired Enjolras stood with his arms folded across his chest. He was skinny but David got the impression that he wasn’t easily breakable; he was the kind of person you didn’t just ignore. Not that ignoring him would have been easy. Enjolras was fiercely stunning, his bright red jacket pulling your attention and his striking pale face keeping it. His chilly pale blue eyes locked with Jack’s and his mouth twisted into a disgusted frown.

“Is this what your Newsboys do? Condone violence?”

“It’s _Newsies_ ,” Jack corrected. “And one of my boys was punched in the face.” He snorted. “Look at you. Big _hoity-toity_ Gabriel Enjolras. God’s gift to the students of Madeline High. Guardian angel of the world. Isn’t that what you think of yourself?” Jack’s voice was raising. He appeared to be getting more upset with this “Enjolras” person than with the Delancey brothers. Enjolras seemed perfectly unbothered by these declarations. “You say you care so much about stopping the fighting in this school, but I ain’t seen none of you Amis people come help him when he got punched in the fucking face. _Fuck_ you.”

The sound of the first bell rang. David, having gotten caught in all this drama, looked down at his watch and realized it was the warning bell that came five minutes before the late bell. He needed to get going.

“It’s down the hall. First door to your right, David,” Jack said to him, turning around to the still standing Delancey brothers. The crowd began to disperse and David right along with it, feeling the further away from whatever was going on, the better.

_****** ** _

“Oh, and Enjolras,” he heard Jack say loudly over the sound of heavy running feet. David turned around for what he was sure was going to be something he shouldn’t miss. Jack was standing in front of the Delancey brothers facing Enjolras. “Sometimes the best way to fight fire is _with_ fire.” With this statement, he spun around and punched Oscar Delancey square in the nose. Oscar screamed profanities around his bleeding and swelling nose as Jack sprinted away, Morris trailing not too far behind him.

_****** ** _

David saw Enjolras roll his eyes as he walked down the hallway. David promised to himself to stay away from Jack and Enjolras and whatever kind of drama decides to show up. He didn’t need to get caught up in that.

 

**\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

David walked into his homeroom (Mr. Mabeuf) and quickly scanned the classroom. The metallic grey desks were arranged in groups of four, the desks directly facing the one in front of it. David chose the group close to the door. That way, he wouldn’t have to get caught up in the cluster of kids trying to get to their next class. He was strategic that way.

****

Sitting down at the desk, he sighed deeply. He hoped the rest of his day wouldn’t be nearly as chaotic.

****

“Hi!” a voice said brightly from across him.

****

David turned and saw a smiling girl with bright purple hair. She held her out her hand from across the table waiting for him to shake it. “I’m Cosette!”

****

“Hi, Cosette,” David smiled, thankful for something normal. “I’m David.”

****

“David, huh,” she smiled. She nodded to the window outside were the spraypainted genitalia was being hosed down by the janitors and student volunteers. “Some kind of school, don’t you think?”

****

“You don’t even know the half of it,” he started. Cosette leaned forward to here what he was going to say. “There was a fight outside the hallway- on the first day of school, even- and this kid was bleeding all over the place. This place is weird.”

****

“Okay, kids, settle down,” said the teacher, Mr. Mabeuf. Mr. Mabeuf appeared to be in his late 50s as far as David could tell. His graying thick black hair was shoulder-length, gathered into dreadlocks. His wrinkled skin was as dark as worn leather, creases near his eyes indicating a man who smiled a lot. He wore a patterned sweater vest and khaki pants as if the heat wave was only a minor inconvenience. “I’ll be passing out your schedules- some may have changed per request. If anything seems wrong, be sure to contact the administration and they’ll clear that straightaway.”

****** **

Mr. Mabeuf’s classroom was what David decided the classroom of a hippie in his later years might look like. He had a tall chestnut bookcase next to the window, filled to the brim with thick hardcovers, aged magazines, and childhood paperback. Yellowing newspapers and posters of classic rock bands and 70s funk groups covered the beige walls of the room, edges curling as a result of being up there for years. And there were plants everywhere. Potted flowers gracing the window’s edge, colorful pressed and dried leaves hanging from the ceilings, in-depth diagrams of plants surrounding the edges of the whiteboard near the front of the class.

****** **

“What’s with the plants?” David asked Cosette.

****** **

“Mabeuf’s a botanist. He teaches biology and botany and shit,” answered a girl who was not Cosette. Cosette looked just as surprised as him to see the newest addition to their group. “Word is, he sells weed on the downside.”

****** **

At David and Cosette’s wide-eyed shock, she understood. “Oh, you’re new kids, aren’t you,” she wore a small smirk, a curious one. She tapped brown fingers on the desk and began to probe them. “I’m Aurielle. Where’re you guys from?”

****** **

“I’m Cosette. Seattle,” Cosette said.

****** **

“David. Redistricting,” David answered, which wasn’t what the girl was asking for probably, but he didn’t feel like saying.

****** **

Aurielle gave him a look. Before she could ask, “What school?”, Mr. Mabeuf came by their desk and started flipping through paper.

****** **

“Euphrasie Fauchelevent?” He held out a freshly printed schedule, smiling despite himself at not stumbling over the unfamiliar name.

****** **

“Present,” she said, collecting the paper. She glanced at David and Aurielle and said, “Don’t ever call me that.”

****** **

“David Jacobs?”

****** **

“Here,” said David.

****** **

“Aurielle Ramirez?”

****** **

“Bright and early, Mabeuf.” Aurielle grinned, collecting the schedule.

****** **

“And how’d the summer treat you, Aurielle?” Mr. Mabeuf asked, a joking tone to his voice. His eyes twinkled behind his large Windsor eyeglasses.

********  
** **

“You’re a new kid?” Cosette asked, hopefully.

****

“Yeah,” David said, running his fingers through his curly brown hair. “I’m a new kid.”

****

“Great,” Cosette said, full lips stretching into a wide grin. “So am I. We new kids’ve gotta stick together, you know? Our very lives might depend on it.”

****

The late bell rung and Cosette and David smiled, both happy that they’ve made at least one friend in a building of strange.

****

Seats were being filled up by students, grouping into four or walking across the classroom. Two boys were doubled over, laughing about something. An Asian boy with a backwards Cubs hat was busy digging through an oblivious girl’s bookbag. He seemed amused by his findings, pulling out fancy gel pens and strong-smelling hand sanitizer.

******  
**

“Not too well,” Aurielle answered, shaking her head melodramatically. “It’s gone too soon. What even _is_ science again? How do I hold a _pencil?”_

_****** ** _

“You’ll find out in two hours according to your schedule,” Mr. Mabeuf said, walking away, a spin in his heel. “Oh, and a happy first day of school, Cosette and David.”

_****** ** _

Cosette politely thanked him while David tried to ignore the heavy feeling in his stomach. Muttering a “thank you”, he took a deep breath and looked down at his schedule…

_****** ** _

...and saw that it was changed.

_****** ** _

_It’s different._

_****** ** _

_It has my name._

_****** ** _

_Crap!_ Crap! _This isn’t right._

_****** ** _

Where concert band was supposed to be listed in the third period slot was instead Newspaper. _Newspaper?_ He hadn’t signed up for newspaper. Les had.

_****** ** _

David played the clarinet. That was something he could do. He wasn’t a reporter. He wasn’t a journalist. He was a _musician_.

_****** ** _

His foot tapped against the vinyl floor as he debated on whether or not he should tell the teacher about the mishap. But in front of so many people? That was probably a bad idea.

_****** ** _

_It’s a bad idea._

_****** ** _

_I’ll just soldier through this and ask the admins._

_****** ** _

“What’re your classes, David?” Cosette asked, a hopeful smile on her face. The only thing better than meeting a kindred new kid was having classes with them.

_****** ** _

“Uh,” David stumbled over his mantra that he had memorized over summer. _First is Pre-Calc. Second is Environmental Science. Third is Concert Band. Fourth is Study Hall. Fifth is AP United States History. Sixth is AP English Literature. Seventh is German Language_. “I have Pre-Calc with a Mrs. Richards first, Environmental Science with Mr. Mabeuf second. Uh, _Newspaper_ with a Mr. Kloppman for third.” Aurielle’s eyes narrowed slightly at this, but David went on. “AP U.S. History with Mr. Alexander for fourth. Study Hall at the Media Center for fifth, AP Lit with Mrs. Conrad for sixth. German’s with a, heh, Ms. Deutsch for seventh.” He paused. “That’s kind of funny.”

_****** ** _

Cosette’s face through his reading varied from disappointment to relief. “I have Mr. Mabeuf for seventh period. I have Ms. Larkson for Drama for sixth. But, I have APUSH and Study Hall when you have it. So, we’re good. And, Audio and Video Production and Design right after homeroom.”

_****** ** _

“You’ve got film?” Aurielle asked, speaking up. Getting a nod from Cosette, she sighed. “Thank _God_. We need more people. And good luck. The competition is brutal.”

_****** ** _

“Brutal?” David asked while Cosette asked, “Why”.

 

“Okay, so I _could_ explain it,” Aurielle began, looking marginally uncomfortable. She pulled at her wavy black hair. It fell in a messy way, like she hadn’t brushed it that morning. “But, I’m awful at explaining things like that.”

“Could you give me the gist of it?” Cosette asked.

“Video _hates_ Newspaper. And vice versa.” She shuddered as if reliving a bad memory. “It’s _awful_.” She looked around the room before pointing, her voice lowered. “You see the girl with the dreads and the girl with the pink leather jacket?”

David nodded while Cosette answered. “Yeah. Feuilly and Bahorel. I caught a ride with them to get here.”

“Jasmine and Rabi drove you to school? Wow. What a coincidence, wouldn’t you say? They’re always out, scouting for recruits.” She pointed at two boys who were laughing while playing an intense game of Pokémon. “Blond boy with the eyepatch and his friend there.” When David and Cosette didn’t answer, Aurielle continued. “Louis and Nick, or “Kid Blink” and “Mush” as they go by. Newspaper.” She faced them again. “One group doesn’t interact with the other and when they do, it’s never good.”

David was skeptical. “So that’s what they do? Excuse me for thinking this sounds like a bad conspiracy theory, but _really?_ They’re not even the same thing, video and newspaper.”

“David, I’ve been at this school longer than you. I know what I’m talking about. You’ll see it for yourself eventually” Aurielle folded her hands together on her desk. “Supposedly, the rivalry dates back to the 90s. Newspaper was king until Video production and their news shows threatened to trump them. They both report the news, just in a different way. It gets way heated at times. They’re territorial.”

Cosette chuckled nervously. “That’s kind of over the top, don’t you think?”

Aurielle shrugged, leaning back on her chair. “Over the top or not. You can’t escape it. It’s _annoying_.”

David swallowed and Cosette worried her bottom lip. As they caught each other’s glance, they sighed in unison, an understanding coming between them.

_It’s going to be a long day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone who's stopped to check out this story. It's really fun to write!!
> 
> I'm going to slowly but surely introduce every character of the Newsies and the Amis. It'll take time cause there's so many. 
> 
> If characters are OOC, tell me. I've never written a story for these fandoms and I'll need all the feedback I can get!
> 
> Film next chapter.


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